Scent
by Cheshiremask
Summary: The sense closest associated to memory, scent also has a great deal to do with how attractive we find potential suitors...rated M for Mature Content.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: I posted this on the Phoenix Wright Kink Meme quite a long time ago, but it just struck me that something might happen to it there, and that I didn't have a copy of it for myself. Not wanting to just have it sitting around on my computer, I figured I'd do something a tad bit more productive and post it to . Hopefully you enjoy it!_

* * *

First it had been the bloody trophy. Now _this_.

Miles sneezed loudly, glaring at the cause of his misery. If there was anything like pure justice in the world, the roses would have all burst into flame, since there was not, he was left sitting in a room full of their cloying, sweet aroma. And their _pollen_.

He had, he decided, suffered for long enough. Propriety or not, it was becoming difficult for him to do his job. As much as he hated the moniker, he had a very good feeling that the new King of Prosecutors could do whatever he bloody well wanted with his victory bouquets if they were getting in the way of his work.

"Miss Fright," he growled into the intercom, one hand depressing the call button while the other dug around in one of the desk drawers for the bottle of allergy medicine he kept on hand, "please come into my office."

Hannah Fright was quite possibly one of the only individuals in the Prosecutors' Offices that Miles had any patience for. She was quiet, unassuming, and could brew an acceptable pot of tea when he wasn't in the mood to call the Gatewater hotel. She also knew how to take directions and not ask questions, which was, in Miles' opinion, one of her most valuable talents.

"Yes Mister Edgeworth?" She asked, pushing her glasses up a little from where they had slipped down her nose.

"Get rid of this obnoxious...greenery," he growled, downing a pair of the allergy pills with what was left of the tea he'd been nursing and stifling yet _another_ sneeze. "Disperse it around the building as surreptitiously as you can, but get it out of my office."

She flashed him only the barest of sympathetic looks before gathering up an armful of the bouquets and removing them. He was reminded - not for the first time - that he owed her a raise for her exemplary service. It was good to know that at least _someone_ that worked under him could follow directions satisfactorily. Within a half hour, she'd managed to get rid of all of the roses except for a huge bouquet from Chief Gant, taking pride of place on his windowsill and blocking out most of the view. The ornate crystal vase that they'd come in was too big and heavy for either Hannah or himself to handle on their own, and the shape of the thing made it far too awkward for them to attempt to remove it together, so Miles just asked her to get a hold of Gumshoe as soon as she could. The detective would certainly be strong enough to at least get the offending flowers to the lobby.

Of course, being unable to open the window and let some _fresh_ air in meant that he was still stuck with an uncomfortably fragrant office, but the allergy pills were starting to kick in, and barring any other unfortunate incidents, he'd finally be able to _do his job_.

"Hey Edgeworth, you in here?"

_Or not._

"Wow," Wright muttered, his face screwing up into an odd expression as he sniffed the air tentatively. "Are you trying some new kind of air freshener or something, Edgeworth?"

Miles just stood there, in front of a veritable _hedge_ of roses arranged in a three-foot-tall crystal chalice, with his arms crossed in front of his chest; not even bothering to deign the Defense Attorney with a response until he heard the little "oh" that told him that the man had finally clued in.

"Wright," his frown deepened as he noticed that he still sounded a little stuffed up, for all that the rest of his symptoms were already nearly gone. "I'm sure you have better things to do with your time than dropping by to smell my office."

*~*~*~*~

As angry as Edgeworth looked, Phoenix couldn't help but laugh at the thought. Sure, he liked how the man smelled - not that he'd ever admit it unless he was willing to get caught up in his own murder trial - but this wasn't usually it. The few times he'd been in Edgeworth's office before, it had smelled like law books and tea. Sophisticated, understated, and clean. Just like the man himself. The heady aroma of roses - he had to guess that was it considering the available evidence, even though he was horrible with flowers - didn't really seem to fit.

"Well, as a matter of fact I do," he held up the manila folder he'd brought with him. "Gumshoe asked me to bring this by. He's still tied up at the crime scene."

Edgeworth made a small exasperated noise that would probably have sounded more imposing if he hadn't been as stuffed up as he was and relieved Phoenix of the folder, leafing through its contents for a moment before tossing it onto his desktop. He looked like he was about to say something when he turned away, stifling a loud sneeze in a handkerchief he just _barely_ managed to pull out of his pocket in time. Phoenix had the good grace to look sympathetic, rather than laugh again, but he could tell by the way Edgeworth was still glaring at him that he wasn't _quite_ managing to keep his amusement off of his face.

"You know, Edgeworth, it might be a good idea for you to get out of here for a while. At least until the place airs out a bit," he suggested, wafting his hand in front of his face.

"I'll have you know, Wright that I have a great deal of work to d-" the silver-haired Prosecutor's expression darkened as another sneeze snuck up on him, and he frowned at a little bottle of pills on his desk before throwing them into the wastepaper bin next to his desk and glaring at Phoenix like this was all his fault.

"Just for coffee? Or something? While the air clears a bit."

"...Fine. But only because I prefer to be able to breathe."

Phoenix let Edgeworth leave ahead of him, managing to suppress a grin that he knew would probably get him punched. He barely got the chance to talk to Edgeworth outside of court, and this was as good an excuse as any.

*~*~*~*~

Phoenix had expected Edgeworth to be stubborn, so he wasn't really surprised when the man had refused point-blank to leave the building. He knew for a fact that the coffee from the cafeteria was horrible - probably one of the reasons Edgeworth had insisted, he'd probably figured that Phoenix would ask for a rain check - but a little bad coffee wasn't enough to dissuade him. He could be just as stubborn as his old friend when the situation called for it.

The conversation was halting and more than a little forced. Miles - Phoenix couldn't help but refer to the man by his first name, if only in his own head - was normally horrible at small talk, but being stuffed up only made him more tight-lipped. The change of locations seemed to have helped a little, but every so often another sneeze would jump him out of nowhere and Phoenix would be left to hide a grin with his coffee cup as he scrambled for his handkerchief. He was only barely saved a tongue lashing when Miles' cell phone went off.

"As thoroughly _enjoyable_ as this has been, Wright, that was my secretary," Miles stood up _just_ quickly enough for Phoenix to recognize the movement as the first part of a tactical retreat. "Detective Gumshoe has just returned with a report for me and was good enough to move the last of those infernal flowers."

"Perfect, now your office should clear out in no time," Phoenix only barely kept himself from laughing at the almost shocked look on Miles' face. "Hope you don't mind if I tag along. I was hoping to catch Gumshoe about something myself."

The glare that Miles shot him would have been enough to send a lesser man running. Phoenix, however, had built up an immunity to death-glares during the course of his career, and when he showed no signs of exploding into a million pieces, Miles just turned on his heel, growling something about the world conspiring against him actually doing his job and heading back for the fire escape they'd come down to get to the cafeteria.

*~*~*~*~

Miles Edgeworth was a fit man. His deep-seated hate of elevators meant that he used the stairs wherever he went, and having an office on the sixth floor of the building pretty much ensured that he got a good amount of exercise in a day - not counting his daily walks with Pess.

When one already has issues breathing, however, sometimes even the most mundane activities can become...difficult.

He'd tried to outpace Wright, right at first - it would mean that he wouldn't have to worry about any more of the painfully awkward conversation they'd been attempting in the cafeteria - but, as was his luck at the moment, he'd completely forgotten that Wright _bicycled_ everywhere he went.

"You okay, Edgeworth?" The defense attorney asked, seeming completely unaffected by the brusque pace.

"For the fourth time, _yes_ Wright," Miles replied curtly, conceding enough to his current inability to get _quite_ enough air into his system to get by unassisted. "I would be better, however, if you _stopped asking_."

In the man's defense, Wright _attempted_ to stifle the chuckle that the comment brought on. Of course, Miles had never been one to allow such things to get in his way.

"I'm thrilled to be such a reliable source of entertainment, Wright," he sneered, stopping to glare at the man - _definitely_ not to catch his breath.

"Aw, Edgeworth, don't be like that," Wright's tone was placating, though his expression was still _far_ too amused for Miles' liking. "You know I don't mean anything by it, right? It's just nice to know that Mister Perfect Public Prosecutor's human too. Allergies are nothing to be ashamed of."

Miles wasn't entirely sure how to respond - admitting that he saw his body's aversion to flowers as an irritating weakness probably wouldn't earn him any sympathy - but he was distracted enough by the sudden spike of irritation that ran through him that he didn't _quite_ put his feet down on the next step properly...


	2. Chapter 2

It came as a complete surprise when his back _didn't_ hit the stairs, but he was so dazed by the sudden shock to his system that, for a moment, he had no idea what he _had_ hit. His body's first reaction was to cling to whatever it was that was keeping him from falling...

Which was, of course, Wright.

Miles had never really had the opportunity, up until that point, to realize just how _blue_ Wright's eyes were.

"God, Miles," Wright's breathing was as ragged as his was, he could feel the man panting where their chests were pressed together. "You scared the shit out of me."

"Language, Wright," Miles kicked himself mentally. The man had just _saved him_, and the first thing out of his mouth was _that_.

Again, Wright decided to surprise him, and instead of pushing him away, or letting go - Miles dimly realized that he wasn't letting up his death grip on the other man either - he just leaned forwards until his forehead was up against the wall above Miles' shoulder, the erratic hitching of his breath getting worse as he started to - of all things - _giggle_.

It was a good thing that Wright was braced against him so that only their chests were pressed together. The feather-light puffs of his breath against Miles' neck, coupled with the rush of adrenaline that was still coursing through his veins, was making things a little...uncomfortable.

"Good to know you're okay then," Wright mumbled, his voice entirely too low and _breathy_. "I think I just had a heart-attack."

Miles' arms tightened briefly around his savior's shoulders before finally loosening up and sliding a bit down Wright's back. It was no use letting go completely since the other man still had him pinned to the wall, right? Especially since their grip on one another was probably the only thing that was keeping them _both_ from pitching down the stairwell.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, feeling more than a little ashamed of himself, both for the quip and the way his body was reacting. "I...Thank you."

"You're welcome." Miles couldn't suppress a shiver as Wright seemed to start to relax, leaning ever so slightly more against him, his cheek still pressed against Miles' cravat. They just stood there, getting themselves back under control - or _trying to_ in Miles' case - for a good long moment before Wright gave a little huff of breath and pulled back just enough to look Miles in the eye, the barest hint of a grin curling his lips.

"Roses."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your clothes. They still smell like roses," Wright _purred_ the words - there was no other word for it - and the erection that Miles had somehow been able to keep at bay returned full force. "No wonder you were still sneezing in the cafeteria."

The lack of blood to his brain meant that it took a little longer than usual for Miles to process the statement. It also gave Wright the chance to back off enough to haul him up the last few stairs and onto the landing between the fifth and sixth floors. He couldn't help the little pang of disappointment he felt when Wright let go of him and backed away a little, taking a seat on the next flight of stairs and running his hand through the unruly, spiky mess that was his habitual hairstyle. Gratitude and arousal were making Miles feel a little wanton, though, and the not-so-subtle hinting that Wright had been doing - at least he hoped it had been hinting, though if it hadn't been, what he was planning probably wouldn't mean anything to the other man - made it seem like a very good idea to do a little of his own.

"Then I'd better do something about it," he replied, running one of his hands over his own hair to smooth it down before shrugging off his jacket. "It's no use going back to a clear office if I'm just going to be sneezing because of my clothes."

The sudden, almost imperceptible look of _hunger_ on Wright's face was beautiful. A perfect, unconscious confirmation that the man _hadn't_ just been messing with Miles' head. The attorney's voice was a little strained when he piped up again, but he cleared his throat and powered on regardless.

"You should probably take off the cravat, too. I could smell them on that..."

*~*~*~*~

Time seemed to just slow down. Phoenix couldn't help but stare as Miles hung his jacket on the banister to his side, unwilling to lay it on the floor. Could only barely bite back the needy little sound that _wanted_ to escape his throat as the man's hands - his strong, expressive, graceful hands - came up slowly to start untying the knot that kept his cravat in place. Phoenix was so focused on just _watching_ that he didn't even miss the tiny shiver that raced along Miles' skin as the silk caressed his neck as he finally pulled it loose and draped it over his jacket.

He couldn't keep his eyes from roaming over the fine, pale expanse of Miles' throat. The man had a beautiful neck and Phoenix felt a sudden, irrational pang of jealousy that Miles so selfishly kept the view all to himself. The removal of that signature article of clothing, that scrap of silk that at one and the same time acted as a barrier between Miles' true self and the world, and a badge signifying all that he had been through to get to where he was today, was such a perfect gesture of invitation and surrender that Phoenix couldn't bring himself to sit still any longer.

Time seemed to stop completely as he stood, his steps tentative but somehow almost too loud in the silence of the stairwell. He couldn't bring himself to speak, in case breaking the silence would also destroy whatever chance he had to do this...

"Well? Has that done it?" Miles' voice was soft and low, the barest hint of uncertainty coloring his usual rich tones.

"I'll have to check," he surprised himself by how low his own voice had gotten, deeper and warmer than it usually was. Thoughts of whether it was lust or some stronger emotion would have to wait; all he wanted right now was to _touch_...

His hands were shaking. He could see it as he brought one up to just barely touch Miles' jaw, tilting his head slightly to one side as he closed the distance between them and wrapped his free arm back around Miles' shoulders, feeling a sudden thrill as the silver-haired Prosecutor's arms came up to hold him, however tentatively. He pressed his cheek back into the crook of Miles' neck, closing his eyes as he felt the warmth of Miles' bare skin against his, the flutter of the man's pulse a perfect confirmation that this was good. That it was welcome.

"I can't smell the roses anymore," he murmured, taking a deep breath and sighing contentedly as _Miles'_ scent filled his lungs. The barest hint of some warm, expensive cologne. The tea he was fond of drinking...roses had a certain charm, but they were _nothing_ compared to this.

"...Are you sure?"

The feeling of Miles' voice rumbling in his throat, against his cheek...this time Phoenix couldn't keep from making a small, appreciative noise, turning his face just enough to press his lips lightly against that soft, warm skin. He could feel his knees go weak as that wonderful voice echoed him - so professional in court, and now so ardent in private - finally giving up on the pretense that this was anything but an effort to get closer. The barely audible hitch in Miles' breath was surreally arousing in the silence...Phoenix could almost be satisfied with just this, holding and being held, every tiny shift of their bodies against one another sending sparks of sensation straight to his now aching erection.

_Almost_.

He pulled back just enough to look into Miles' eyes, silently asking for permission that he didn't really think he'd be denied at this point, groaning quietly as he took in the flush on Miles' cheeks, the way his steel-gray eyes were half closed, his lips just barely parted, all coming together to make an expression that was both wanton and heart-wrenchingly tender and _god_, if Phoenix had even been wondering if this was the right thing to do, that look killed the last of his doubts.

He pressed his lips against Miles' carefully. Slowly. Almost afraid that he'd frighten the other man away with this extra contact. He needn't have worried, though. The moment their lips touched, Miles' arms tightened around his shoulders, pulling their bodies flush against each other and startling a gasp out of the both of them as their arousals lined up, even the slight friction almost mind-blowingly pleasurable.

For all that he tried to remind himself to take it slow, to stay mindful of where they were and _who_ he was kissing, it felt so good he couldn't help but let his hips buck slowly against Miles', reveling in the sensation and the small, beautiful noises the silver-haired man was making.

"God..._Phoenix_..." The sound of his name falling from those maddening lips coaxed a louder groan from the attorney. Miles' hands clenched in the fabric of his jacket, pulling them that much closer together as Phoenix backed them both up the couple of steps that would mean they could brace themselves against the wall, not trusting the strength of his legs alone to keep them from sinking to the floor. Phoenix moved his attention back to Miles' neck as the man arched against the concrete, pressing their hips more firmly together, his breath coming in quick bursts that Phoenix could just barely feel ghosting through his hair.

"Miles..."


	3. Chapter 3

They have to be careful, they both know it. Neither of them are really out of their heads enough yet to think they can push too far, so instead of an intense fumble to remove as much clothing as possible, they both take their time with what they _can_ do, driving one another crazy with lingering touches, little things. Phoenix's hands are still shaking when he reaches down to finger the buttons of Miles' vest open; strangely, _irrationally_ happy that the man wears so many layers because it's like unwrapping the best present of his life - just one happy surprise after another, especially because Miles' hands are coming up to _his_ chest too, undoing the buttons of his white dress shirt and pulling his tie loose and finally off with an almost agonizing slowness.

Phoenix can't help but shiver as he leans forward to meet Miles' lips again, pouring all of the passion and vehemence they can't risk playing out with their hands into the embrace. He knows somehow, without ever needing to ask, that Miles is taking it extra slow so that they can match each other's progress. By the time the reddish-pink tie's hit the floor, Phoenix is only just barely starting to undo the tiny pearl buttons of Miles' shirt, the man's vest finally hanging open.

He's been good so far, nearly silent except for little, stifled murmurs of encouragement, but the moment Miles' fingers brush against his skin, working slowly, methodically down Phoenix's chest, he can't help but cry out. Miles seems to sense it and just pulls Phoenix closer again, parting his lips with his warm, soft tongue and inhaling the shout like he needed it to live. The added distraction of Miles sucking on his tongue, mapping the inside of his mouth and making more of those gorgeous hungry sounds makes it harder to get his fingers to deal with the tiny buttons on his shirt, but _god_, it's worth it. It's _torture_, and it's _so goddamned worth it_, because he finally manages to get the last button loose at the same time as Miles very deliberately parts the fabric of his own shirt and starts running his warm, soft hands along the contours of his chest like he wanted to memorize them while Phoenix did the same, sending the both of them careening towards sensory overload _and they hadn't even gotten to the best part yet_.

It's too much, and both of them know it. They're pressed so close together that Phoenix can't tell the difference between the pounding of his own heart and Miles', and if it hadn't been earth-shatteringly important that they saw this through to the end before, there was no way that they could stop now. Half of the building could parade past them on the stairs and they wouldn't even _dream_ of letting go...

Phoenix freed a hand from its grip on Miles' hip at the same time as one of Miles' hands traced its way down his stomach, coming to a wordless, mindless agreement as they continued to kiss. Phoenix's hands had finally stopped shaking, but it was only because there was no _time_ to be nervous, they _needed_ this...

"_Oh god Miles!_"

Too good. Too hot...Miles' hand felt better on his erection than his ever had, than _anything_ ever had, and it had to be good for _him_ too because he wasn't trying to reclaim the kiss, just leaning his forehead into the crook of Phoenix's neck, moaning softly and maddeningly as they matched each other's pace.

"Ph-Phoenix..."

Phoenix could feel his orgasm creeping up on him already, they'd only just _started_ but _god_, Miles' skin, his breath, _everything_ was just making this too much, too goddamned _hot_. The only thing that made it okay was the fact that he could hear Miles' voice, the little noises he was making were becoming as desperate as Phoenix's own.

And then it was over. Phoenix felt a flood of warmth in his hand just as climax crashed down around him and he jerked his hips into Miles', biting down on the other man's clothed shoulder to muffle the sound of the cry he could feel tear out of his throat. Miles came nearly silently, but no less intensely - if the nearly crushing grip he kept around Phoenix's back with his free hand was any indication - and they just stood there, pinned against one another for a long moment as they fought to regain their breath.

"...Wright...?"

Phoenix tensed up just a little, his face still pressed against Miles' shoulder. He had a good idea what had put that questioning tone into the other's still breathless voice...

"Did...you mean that?"

He took a deep breath, running over his options for a moment before coming to the decision that there _was_ no other answer he could give. He was, after all, dedicated to uncovering the truth...

"Yes, Miles," he pulled back far enough to look the other man in the eye, slightly taken aback by the vulnerability he saw in the usual steely gaze. "I meant it."

If Phoenix had thought that the moment couldn't get any more perfect, Miles proved him wrong yet again. The defense attorney found himself with an armful of warm, solid prosecutor as Miles crushed their bodies together, completely uncaring of the mess they'd made...

"I love you too, Phoenix."

* * *

"You don't look so hot, Mister Edgeworth. Your cheeks are all red."

Again, the glare-of-death didn't have its desired effect. Miles could hear little strangled noises behind him - the idiot had better not laugh _now_ or no matter _what_ kind of agreement they'd come to in the stairwell just now, there'd be hell to pay. It was, however, Phoenix - there was no way he could go on calling the man who was effectively his lover (there, he'd admitted it) by his last name in his own head - who saved the day when Miles couldn't quite find the appropriate words to push the good Detective's well-meant but bullishly stubborn concern to one side.

"Mister Edgeworth's been having a bit of trouble with his allergies," Phoenix's voice was as smooth as it had ever been in court, and for a split second, Miles envied him. He was still feeling a tad bit...flustered. "Haven't you, Edgeworth?"

"Thank you for removing those...roses, Detective," Edgeworth managed to pull himself together, but didn't bother masking the glare he shot Phoenix, who was grinning like the cat that had gotten the canary. So much for admiring his subtlety.

"Oh, no problem, pal!" Gumshoe grinned, then flinched, rubbing the back of his neck. "Er, sir. But maybe you oughtta go home? You still look a little under the weather. I mean, it even looks like you're breathin' kinda heavy..."

"You know, I think I shall," Miles replied quickly, he could feel his cheeks heat up even more. They had to nip _that_ little line of thought in the bud _quickly_. Gumshoe might not be the quickest member of the investigative team, but he stuck with an idea until he ran it into the ground... "My entire office is still undoubtedly flooded with pollen, which will only make things worse."

"I can give you a ride home, if you're not up to drivin', Mister Edgeworth sir."

The idea nearly made him wince - he'd seen the rolling junk-heap that Gumshoe called a car. Its primary color was Bondo.

"No, I think I'll be alright. I-"

"I'll go with him to make sure he gets home okay," Phoenix had finally, to his credit, managed to school his expression into something a little more reasonable...if you ignored the almost _painfully_ suggestive twinkle in his eyes.

Luckily enough, as blatantly obvious as Phoenix's behavior was to Miles, Gumshoe completely missed it, and the dark haired attorney even behaved himself on their way down to the parking garage. Once they got back to Miles' house, though...well _that_ was another matter entirely.


End file.
